Elementary, my dear Goyle
by TwentyRings
Summary: People think Crabbe and Goyle are dull, unintelligent, and slow, good only as intimidation and dumb muscle. People couldn't be more wrong. After all, what better place to be undercover than at the side of one of Hogwarts' shadiest students? Year 1 Fic. Inspired by Sherlock Holmes, not a crossover.
1. The Adventure of the Extraordinary Rat

**A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed the last story. Here is my first HP fanfic, which will enter a more or less unexplored genre with unexpected characters. Except you already know what both the genre and the characters are, as you read the summary.**

**Congrats to Borys68, the first to say that my pen name is the Rings of Power added up, and to aitchee, who was second. Check out their story pages, there's some pretty good stuff there.**

**Warning: While this is a Year 1 fic, it will contain a few spoilers from across the series up to and including Deathly Hallows, so you are advised not to read this unless you have completed the series. (But by this point, who really hasn't?) **

**This story is set in Harry's first year, and is based on the books.  
I do not own Harry Potter (or Sherlock Holmes).**

**In this chapter, anything in italics is an extract from Goyle's journal, as he is chronicling the entire adventure at a later date. **

* * *

Elementary, my dear Goyle

Upon seeing Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle for the first time, most people would believe that they were around 13 or 14 years old, and even so, burly for their age. This would be a mistaken impression, as they were both only eleven.

The two would accompany a much smaller and less intimidating Draco Malfoy everywhere, bodyguard style, for as long as he was at Hogwarts. It was often wondered why the two provided this protection and intimidation service to Draco, as they certainly weren't being paid for it. Perhaps it was due to the loyalty of their families to the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, or perhaps they were too stupid to do other than what he told them to.  
Both ideas would be wrong however. They stayed with Draco because it was an excellent cover. They stayed with Draco, because where Draco went, trouble was always around, and trouble was their business.

Upon speaking to Crabbe and Goyle, most people believed they were extremely slow, unintelligent, and about as eloquent as a pair of constipated trolls.  
This however, was another extremely mistaken impression, as the duo were intelligent, observant, and had a greater vocabulary than most people twice their age. They chose not tho show it, except to each other, as it would otherwise blow their cover, since Crabbe and Goyle had a very impotant mission: The Protection of Hogwarts from Dark and Mysterious Forces.

* * *

_Goyle's Journal, Date: September 1st 1991_

_The Hogwarts Expess zoomed along towards the secret location of Hogwarts, which myself and Crabbe had quite naturally already predicted, though for obvious reasons we will carry this secret with us to the grave. As the pair of us strode imposingly behind Malfoy, I reviewed in my head the recent incident involving the jinxed broom, the stolen wand, and the engorged pumpkin: myself and Crabbe's last case before departing for Hogwarts.  
Draco led us down the corridor, and into a compartment containing two boys and a large mound of candy. The red haired boy was eating a great deal of it, more of the wrappers were next to him, but it was quite clear that it wasn't he who had purchased it: two unopened sandwiches also lay next to him, indicating that he had not planned on eating from the trolley. No such meal was near the dark haired boy, which would mean that he purchased the entire lot, implying he was quite wealthy. However, he had not yet changed into his robes, and the Muggle clothing he wore was faded, old, and the wrong size, indicating that his fortune was quite newfound, which would mean... my heart sank as my eyes drifted up to the scar on his forehead, confirming my worst suspicions: the boy Draco Malfoy had chosen to terrorize was none other than Harry Potter.  
This was going to be a very long year indeed...  
_

* * *

"Is it true?" Malfoy was asking, "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" However, Vincent Crabbe was not paying much heed. He had already followed a very similar train of thought to Goyle's and reached a similar conclusion regarding the boys' identities in about half the time, and immediately moved on to more pressing matters: the Weasley boy's rat.  
It had the faintest of an aura around it, indicating that a spell had just been cast upon it, but there was no sign of any spell's effects, aside from a missing toe. However, the wound was not fresh in the slightest, and Crabbe could not imagine the boy cursing off his rat's toe and not being concerned in the slightest. This would imply the toe had been lost in an accident, or a fight perhaps, but it would be highly improbable that a single tiny toe, and not an entire paw, would be lost. Crabbe needed to see that rat more closely. He nudged Goyle, and jerked his head surreptitiously towards the creature. Unfortunately, he failed to notice Draco's conversation with Potter and Weasley, which was taking an unpleasant turn at that very moment.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some," Draco was saying just as Goyle reached his hand out towards the rat, who was nesting in the chocolate frogs. All eyes immediately turned to him, and he reached a split second decision: If the threat could not be examined, it would have to be neutralized.

Goyle quickly jammed his knuckle into the rat's mouth and yelled. Loudly. He swung the rat round and round until it flew off and hit the window very hard. He quickly fled the compartment following Malfoy and Crabbe. He was pleased with himself, until he heard the Weasley boy say,"No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep."  
Goyle was infuriated. He had failed.

He waited till they had returned to the compartment and Malfoy had begun a conversation regarding Potter with Blaise before turning to Crabbe.

"I apologise for that fiasco," he muttered to his comrade, casting a healing charm at his own bleeding knuckle.

"No need for that at all, old friend," Crabbe airily replied. "No ordinary rat could have survived a hit against a window at that velocity and angle."

"That's the problem. The rat did survive, unless Weasley has an even lower intelligence than he appears to."

Crabbe smiled. "You missed my point. No _ordinary _rat could have survived, ergo, Scabbers is not an ordinary rat. This certainly merits further investigation."

"Scabbers? I failed to notice that little detail."

"No detail is ever too small my friend," Crabbe's smile grew broader, "In fact, the smallest of details are often the most important."

* * *

_And so it was upon that speeding train that I learnt the importance of smaller details, a lesson that would prove to be extremely useful over the following year. My friend and mentor, Vincent Crabbe, also confessed that working undercover as Draco's bodyguards was more difficult than expected, as Draco himself ended up being a random factor in the proceedings. Random at first that is, within two weeks of accompanying him we were able to successfully predict his behaviour patterns in various scenarios, making everything that much easier.  
The year ahead was to be a tumultuous one. While we knew it was our responsibility to use our skills to protect Hogwarts from danger, we failed to anticipate how much danger Hogwarts was actually facing..._

**Well, I was actually shocked when I searched for fics with this genre and these characters, and saw that there was only one, which was not really what I had in mind. It seemed like such a simple concept: Crabbe and Goyle are actually undercover detectives. My original plan was to have Goyle as the Holmes, and Crabbe as the almost-as-competent Watson. However, a certain plot twit sprung to my mind which caused me to switch them. If you think you know what it is, please DON'T put it in the comments, and PM me instead. **

**One last thing: I NEED YOUR OPINION. Besides an honest review, I need to know: should I keep this as a OneShot, make it the first in a series of OneShots, or make it Chapter 1 of a much larger story? I originally planned to do the first, but as I started writing wonderful ideas began to flow into my mind, tempting me to write more. So. Much. More.**

**Thank you for reading, and please, please leave an honest review, and you may want to follow in case it does become a larger story.**

**TwentyRings**


	2. The Adventure of the Sentient Headgear

**A/N: The Sorting Hat's lines are in bold, Crabbe's response's are in italics.**

**I do not own Harry Potter (or Sherlock Holmes)**

* * *

The train pulled up at Hogsmeade station, and the students disembarked. The first years were collected by a literal mountain of a man named Hagrid, who took them to the docks so as to reach the castle by boat.  
En route, Crabbe paid close attention to their guide. He was huge, too huge to even be fully human, and was most likely Half-Giant. It was fortunate that he had only inherited the size gene from his non-human parent, as Giants are not famed for their beauty. His clothes showed he wasn't too well off, but he had a jovial air about him that implied he was happy with his position. A caretaker perhaps? The end of a pink umbrella was sticking out of one of his pockets, but it was too small to be of any use to him, so it was probably there for another reason. The handle looked distinctly like the end of a wand, only far larger. Could the umbrella be a disguised wand? It is possible that he had to go undercover in the Muggle World very frequently... no, that didn't make much sense. Dumbledore would choose some less less conspicuous for such duties, and furthermore...Crabbe craned his neck. There was a large crack down the handle which seemed to have been repaired clumsily. Had Hagrid been convicted of some crime...no, it was far more likely that he had been expelled as a student. Ministry prejudices were even stronger about fifty years ago, and it would explain why he took a job at Hogwarts: He was probably not very welcome where he grew up, making the castle the only home he had.

While busy making these deductions, Crabbe had barely even noticed the magnificent castle looming ahead of them. Goyle however, had, and was marveling at the sight, just as awestruck as the rest of the students.

* * *

They pulled up onto the shore, and Hagrid led them to the main door. He raised a mighty fist and knocked three times.  
The doors were opened by a stern-looking black haired witch in emerald robes. She led them through the massive Entrance Hall to a gigantic golden door, behind which the entire school had assembled if the noise was anything to go by. However, she did not take them through those doors, and instead led them into a small antechamber, where she briefed them on the four Houses, and gave them some time to tidy themselves up.

She had barely left the room when a large group of pearly-white ghosts drifted in through a wall on the opposite side. Despite their casual conversation among themselves, it was quite clear they had intentionally entered this particular room, probably to take a first look at, and intimidate the fresh batch of students.  
Crabbe noticed that a ghost covered in silvery blood patches gazing mournfully at a ghost in a long white dress, though she ignored him in a clearly practised manner. He walked over to the first ghost and spoke quietly," That woman, you loved her, didn't you? Why did you kill her?"  
The blood stained spectre was speechless," What... I mean how did you... did somebody-"  
Crabbe cut him off. "Your clothing clearly indicates you are from the same time period. There is a stab wound on her chest which is the exact size and shape to have been caused by the dagger hanging at you belt, and is almost identical to several such wounds across your entire body. You quite clearly killed her, and then yourself afterwards. The two of you were not star crossed suicidal lovers, you would not have put yourself so through much pain unless you had killed her, probably in a fit of rage, and regretted it bitterly afterwards."  
Silvery tears were flowing down the ghost's face. "Please," he said quietly, "tell no one of this."

Before Crabbe could reply, Professor McGonagall swept back into the chamber. "Move along now," she said sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start." She led the first years across the hall and through the golden double doors, into the Great Hall.

And what a suitable name that was. The four long tables, each decorated with the coulours of a specific House, and the magnificently decorated head table. The floating candles, the golden goblets, the streaming banners, the endless ceiling... the sheer number of students. Four enormous tables packed with eleven to seventeen year olds, talking, laughing, muttering, shouting, practising magic or bullying those younger, mournfully staring at their empty plates, gawking at the ceiling, looking out the windows towards the forest. Many ethnicities, mainly British, there were quite clearly resemblances between several groups, mainly Purebloods. Some people were sitting at a table that was not their own, going against prejudices whether to be with friends or family... a thousand students, a million stories, and it was all too much. Crabbe shut his eyes, wishing that sometimes he could just shut off his mind, and become the brainless dimwit he so often pretended to be.

* * *

He opened his eyes. They were at the front of the Hall, right in front of the head table. McGonagall brought out a four legged stool and place a frayed wizard's hat on it. A rip like a mouth opened near the brim... and the hat began to sing. Seriously. When it was finished, McGonagall brought out a list of names in ascending order of last names, and called forward students to be Sorted, and it was all too soon before she reached  
"Crabbe, Vincent!"  
Crabbe lumbered forward, and put the hat on backwards. Might as well make a good first impression to the entire school after all. That's when he heard the voice in his mind.

**My, my, my, what to we have here? An occlumency barrier? I haven't seen a student try this in decades. You're quite clearly a prodigy, but it would take an occlumens as good as Dumbledore, or perhaps Snape too fool me. What I do see right now is a giant wall with an attempt to fool me into thinking you are slow and stupid painted on it.**

Crabbe sighed. He hadn't truly expected it to work; his self taught occlumency was still basic at best.

**Now, are you going to let me in, or shall I just put you in Ravenclaw? You are more than worthy of it, although I suspect that was not your intention.**

Crabbe sighed again, and let the barrier down. _There. Happy now?_

**Well...it seems I should probably put you in Ravenclaw anyway, because this is just...fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.**

_Look, you can't tell anyone about this._

**Oh, don't worry about that, everything I see in your head is strictly confidentional. Not even the Headmaster can force me to reveal information. Now, about your House...**

I_ need to go into Slytherin, because-_

**I can see why...hmm joining a House you would be ill suited to in the pursuit of knowledge? That is both brave and determined, and your desire to keep your talents hidden is selfless. You seem to belong in every House save the one you insist upon.**

_Saves you the trouble of deciding, doesn't it?_

**Regardless, it is still my job to sort you-**

_Is it? Are you really capable of sorting a student into a House against their direct and express wishes?_

**Well, now that you mention it...**

_I WANT to go into Slytherin._

**Oh very well then. Better be...**

**SLYTHERIN!**

The Hat had shouted the last word to the entire hall. As Crabbe slipped it off his head, he heard one final whisper:

**Don't worry, I'll cut to the chase a bit more quickly with your friend.**

As Crabbe walked towards the Slytherin table, he noticed there was very little clapping across the table, and quite a bit of whispering. Barely anyone was paying any attention to the next student's Sorting (Conrad-Dayle, Arnold; Ravenclaw). The speculation was to be expected however, most sortings took a few seconds while Crabbe's had lasted well over a minute.  
Fortunately for him, this news quickly became stale as a certain...celebrity's name was called out a short while later, the length of whose Sorting far eclipsed Crabbe's own...

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's Chapter 2 out of the way. ****Special thanks to Moonfur ADV for their support. Please leave an honest review, and PM me if you have any questions or plot ideas.  
****For those of you who are wondering, the plot will not simply be Crabbe uncovering every spoiler from Years 1-7 just because he can. The Scabbers, Hagrid and Bloody Baron scenes were simply put in as character defining moments, and for both the readers and myself to get used to Crabbe Sherlock-Scanning. The scenes play no real important part in the major plot however, which should start in the next chapter.  
****Until then, goodbye.  
****TwentyRings**


	3. The Adventure of the Irate Professor

**A/N: This Chapter is shorter than the others and is mainly filler till the end. I also corrected a couple of minor errors from the previous chapters as pointed out by Mibamonster.  
Everything in italics is an extract from Goyle's journal. You know, the one from the first chapter.**

* * *

_When I was being sorted, the Sorting Hat did not even bother looking past my defenses, which even I knew were clumsily constructed, and just put me directly into Slytherin. While this was what I wanted, I found it a little too easy. I suspect that Crabbe, whose Sorting had occured far before mine, may have had something to do with it._

_I took my place at the Slytherin table amidst sparse applause and numerous jeers, beside Crabbe. When I asked him about what transpired doing his Sorting, he merely grunted, jerked his head towards Draco, and ate some more food. The incident passed out of my mind after a while, and I gave it no further thought at the time._

_The Feast and Speech passed on without much to note, save one particular rule laid down by the Headmaster..._

* * *

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Vincent Crabbe frowned as Albus Dumbledore reached that part of his speech. The whisperings around the Hall, as well as the fact that some inappropriate laughter was stifled by glares, clearly indicated that this was not a normal rule, no common danger like the Forbidden Forest mentioned earlier. Some of the teachers looked surprised, while quite a few did not: Dumbledore's inner circle, they had clearly helped plan this with him. Crabbe instantly memorized the faces, ready to attach names to them as soon as possible. McGonnagal was one of them, Severus Snape the Potions Master, a man his father knew, was another. There was something dangerous down that corridor, thoughts of rats and hats were stored away in his mind as he mentally sunk his teeth into this new mystery.

* * *

_We were accepted easily into Slytherin House by our peers, we were both from a long line of Purebloods, and we were Draco's 'Protectors'. The first week of classes were exactly as I predicted: boring. I can only imagine how terrible they must have been for Crabbe, who was ten times smarter than I. The only sources of amusement were to make mild deductions about some of the First Years in our classes (although most people are open books at age eleven), and to see how dumb we could act without the teachers catching on. As it happens, there doesn't seem to be a limit. I held my wand the wrong way round in Charms class, and Professor Flitwick did nothing but gently correct me. Crabbe almost fooled me with his idiocy however: In Transfiguration, he struck and lit every one of his matches which were meant to be turned to needles, He fell asleep in the midnight Astronomy class, referred to Professor Sprout as 'Mrs. Potts' during Herbology, and somehow manged to set fire to his desk during History of Magic without even using his wand. Not that Professor Binns even noticed. On Friday we had our first class with the Gryffindors: Potions._

* * *

Crabbe looked up, mild interest on his face as Snape finished his monologue and immediately turned to Harry Potter. After a series of difficult questions which no First Year... well, almost no First Year would be able to answer, the Potions Master deducted a point from Gryffindor. Snape clearly hated the boy, but he hated him almost too much. It was certainly worth looking into. Turning the matter over in his mind, Crabbe nearly made a perfect Cure for Boils before realizing that he was supposed to be screwing it up. He killed the heat and threw in a few wombat brains, causing the potion to go blue and frothy, just as Snape swooped by to compliment Malfoy's skills.

* * *

It had been a frustrating week, with no further clues regarding the mysterious third floor corridor. Crabbe was considering throwing caution to the winds and exploring it anyway, when an article in the _Daily Prophet_ changed his mind. It was about a break-in at Gringotts on July 31st in which nothing had been stolen, as the vault had been emptied earlier that same day.  
Earlier that same day... the end of July was a popular time to visit Diagon Alley. It was also the time when Muggleborns were brought by guardians from the school to purchase all their supplies. It was a bit of a long shot, but what if the valuable item in the vault had been taken then, to be brought to Hoqwarts, the only place in Britain safer than Gringotts. Did that mean Dumbledore knew the item was in danger, or was it just a happy coincidence? Crabbe doubted it. Coincidences and Albus Dumbledore were two things that never mixed.

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Please, please please leave an honest review, and PM me if you have any questions or suggestions regarding the plot. This chapter was a little short and mild, but there's a lot more investigation coming up next time.  
TwentyRings**


	4. The Hound of the Corridor

**A/N: In order to celebrate a week long break I've got, I've posted both a new chapter of this and Sporks. A bit more action and investigation in this one, hope you enjoy.  
****Passages in italics are extracts from Goyle's journal.**

* * *

Thursday morning found Crabbe at breakfast in the Great Hall, carefully trying to read Nott's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ over his shoulder, when suddenly Malfoy suddenly got up and began laughing and pointing at someone in the Gryffindor table. Mentally groaning, Crabbe got up and followed Malfoy towards his target, Goyle lumbering behind. Malfoy sauntered up to Neville Longbottom and snatched a glowing red glass ball out of his hand. A Rememberall, doubtlessly sent by his grandmother. Crabbe scowled. If Malfoy wanted to be a bully, he had no problem with that. But why did he have to act so illogically? Rememberalls were gimmicky items long out of fashion, so why would Malfoy even bother trying to swipe it? Fortunately McGonagall spotted what was happening, causing Malfoy to return the item and leave.

* * *

_That afternoon was the first Flying Class with the Gryffindors. Crabbe and I did not enjoy it. Due to the instability of brooms, there was a very fine line between flying well enough to get noticed, and flying badly enough to get yourself seriously injured, neither of which was desirable. The latter was clearly illustrated by Longbottom's accident that resulted in a broken wrist and The Rememberall Incident, which in turn resulted in Potter's triumph and Malfoy's humiliation, which then resulted in a_

_"Wizard's duel." Malfoy said, "Wands only — no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"_

_"Of course he has," responded Weasley, clearly indicating that Potter hadn't. "I'm his second, who's yours?"_

_"Crabbe," Malfoy replied; it wasn't as though he knew I was actually more skilled in both magical and non-magical combat. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."_

_But there was to be no duel, as Malfoy confided in us on the way back to the Slytherin Common Room. In fact, it was our duty to ensure that Filch would be led to the Trophy Room shortly after midnight. As far as a revenge plan went, it wasn't terrible. I nearly felt proud of the fact that Malfoy had thought it up on his own. The main flaw was that he'd either have to rely on myself and Crabbe to tip off Filch, or do it himself, which would land him in trouble._

* * *

"I don't get it," a Disillusioned Goyle muttered to a Disillusioned Crabbe as they walked along a dark corridor at 12:07 PM. "Do we want them to get caught or not? You were rather vague on that point."

"All I said was that they aren't really a priority, and really not our business. We're here to check out something entirely different on the third floor."

The duo strolled toward the door at the end of the forbidden corridor, when suddenly a loud crashing and banging came from somewhere nearby. There were the sounds of some running footsteps and Peeves shouting about students out of bed coming in their direction. Crabbe and Goyle hastily pressed themselves against the wall as four students, Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom, followed closely by the poltergeist burst into the corridor. They ran to the end where one of them magically unlocked the door. Goyle hastily checked his pocket for the pack of Dungbombs he always carried, threw them at Peeves's feet and dashed along with Crabbe through the door just before it was slammed shut.

* * *

Filch hobbled round the corner and saw Peeves at the end of a corridor with no students in sight anywhere.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" he wheezed, out of breath. "Quick, tell me."

Peeves greedily eyed the Dungbombs below him, and made a decision. "Say 'please.' "

* * *

Crabbe sighed in relief, and turned around. There were few moments in his life when he had truly been scared. The signs of his fright were few and hard to spot; a slight dilation of his pupils, more rapid breathing, a paler face. None of these signs were visible when he was Disillusioned.

Crabbe was scared. For a moment, he was no longer Vincent Crabbe, undercover investigator and most brilliant student in Hogwarts. For a moment, he was simply a terrified eleven year old facing down a monstrous three headed hound with yellow fangs, mad eyes and growling throats.  
Then the moment passed, and Crabbe remembered what he had come here for. Amid the shrieks and screams of the other children around him, he carefully examined the creature at a distance. It was a slightly smaller breed of the Greek Cerebrus, but there wasn't much else he could tell. The room it was in was barely large enough for the beast, it had no windows, no doors save the one they had come through... and a trapdoor on the floor. The dog was there to guard something.

No sooner had Crabbe reached this conclusion than the door burst open again and the other five students ran out, and he barely made it before it was slammed shut again. Filch and Peeves had left, so Crabbe and Goyle hung back in a shadowy corner as the other four fled, then set off in the opposite direction. Neither of them spoke for a long while.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review with you honest opinion, if it's positive it makes me feel good and if it's negative in drives me to improve. Until next time.  
TwentyRings **


	5. The Adventure of the Detective's Dilemma

**A/N: Everything in italics is an extract from Goyle's journal**

* * *

The next morning found an exhausted and surly Crabbe sitting next to a gleeful Draco who was busy bragging about how he had singlehandedly got both Potter and Weasley expelled in a single night. Crabbe had neglected to mention that he hadn't tipped off Filch as ordered, but it hardly mattered. It had been a stupid plan, doomed to failure from the moment of conception. Even if the elderly and rheumatic Filch had by some miracle caught the quartet, the most they would have suffered would have been a detention and the loss of a few of the ironically pointless House Points.

He rolled his eyes at Draco's expression of shock at Potter and Weasley's triumphant strut into the Great Hall, and internally groaned as Draco immediately turned on him and began ranting about 'simple instructions', 'family ties' and 'brainless oafs'. Tuning it out, Crabbe focused on the Gryffindor table where six large owls set a broomstick shaped parcel down in front of Potter. He was about to rip it open when a seventh owl dropped a note in front of him that obviously told him not to, as he hastily finished his breakfast, grabbed the package and made his way out of the Hall.  
Oh please, Crabbe thought to himself, if they wanted the broom to remain a secret, they could have had a House Elf deliver it to his dormitory. There was no need for such blatant display of an obviously shaped package, both in the Hall and on the way up to the seventh floor.

Even Draco seemed to realize what it was, he motioned to Crabbe and Goyle to follow him on an intercept course towards Potter and Weasley. As they moved through the crowd, Crabbe wondered if Lucius Malfoy knew of his son's fixation on antagonizing the Boy-Who-Lived, and whether he would approve of it.  
Crabbe had only met Lucius Malfoy twice before in his life. He was able to deduce very little about the man, other than the fact that he was cold, hard and unforgiving. However, he had one weakness: his son, Draco. How far his love for the boy went, Crabbe was unsure, but Lucius seemed to hold him very dear. But the question at hand was, would Lucius prefer his son to oppose the friend of his fallen master, or befriend him? It all depended on how deep Lucius's loyalty to the Dark Lord went.  
How loyal someone could get to the Dark Lord, a matter that would haunt Crabbe for many years to come.

* * *

_The weeks dragged on all too slowly. Classes went on, and the hounding of Potter and Weasley was a pastime relentlessly pursued by Draco. As of this writing, he hasn't particularly improved, although the summer holidays may mellow him a bit. I can dream.  
Very few further advances were made in the case at hand during this period. In retrospect, I suppose it makes sense for more evidence to come to light at major events at Hogwarts. After all, few villains can resist having a theatrical flair, the ones that do resist are always the most difficult to uncover. That having been said, the next major development occurred at Halloween..._

* * *

"TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON!" Professor Quirell gasped for breath. "Thought you ought to know."  
He collapsed to the ground and lay still.  
Crabbe calmly analyzed the prone Defence Professor as people all around screamed and ran. There just seemed to be something wrong about the way he fell. If he was guilty of something, then the troll was obviously a lie to get people scrambling for the common and staff rooms, to get them out the way for something. It was incredibly easy to fake 'a troll was here' with a few blasting charms along the path of destruction.

"Prefects!" Dumbledore was shouting loud enough to be heard over all the commotion, "Lead your Houses back to their dormitories immediately!"  
Crabbe nearly winced at the ridiculousness of that order. If there really was a troll in the dungeons, it would be on the same floor as the Slytherin dormitories. Why should the entire school split up in the first place? The Great Hall, when sealed by magic, was be one of the safest places in the Castle.

He tapped Goyle on the shoulder and whispered, "You stay with Draco, I panicked and ran, and I'll turn up sooner or later." He made his way to a corner, made sure no one was watching, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. And then he waited.

Seven minutes later, the only people left in the Hall were Snape and the still fallen Quirell. Snape carefully eyed the body as he slowly backed his way out through the doors. Crabbe hastily stood up, and slipped through just before the doors slammed shut, just in time to Snape walking swiftly towards the staircases.  
Crabbe was torn, On one hand, he would easily lose sight of Snape if he waited for Quirell to get up. On the other, Snape wasn't his prime suspect. The possibilities of what was transpiring, in order of decreasing likelihood were:  
- Snape and Quirell were in league, Quirell's diversion was engineered to give Snape a chance to get to the forbidden corridor  
- Quirell was guilty, and he planned to sneak to the corridor when the way was clear, Snape was possibly tryng to stop him  
- Vice-versa  
- Both Snape and Quirell were innocent, and there really was a troll on the loose.

The last theory made barely any sense. Crabbe made up his mind, and decided to tail Snape.

* * *

Severus Snape was a powerful wizard. That much was evident from the strength of his Disillusionment Charm he had cast upon himself, rendering him nearly invisible.  
Nearly.  
Crabbe could see the faintest shimmer as he carefully shadowed the Potions Master. He nearly lost sight of him a few times, but it helped that he was relatively sure of their final destination. Sure enough, they soon reached the door at the end of the third floor corridor, which Snape non-verbally unlocked. Crabbe entered behind Snape, and felt the fear rush into him as he once again gazed upon the waking Cerebrus.

The waking Cerebrus... they were the first people here. Snape seemed to have stopped. There was no telling why, was he planning a route to the trapdoor or simply looking for signs of anyone else?

It all happened in a flash. One second, the beast was simply quietly growling at them. The next, it had lunged with an enormous roar at Snape,, who gave a yell of pain as razor sharp fangs ripped into his flesh. Black robes were torn off and red blood spilled out, both turning visible as they separated from him.

Crabbe ran. He ran, and did not look back That blood could easily have been his, that wound could have been fatal. He ran, and did not stop, not till he had reached the dungeons. Then he paused, and regret and shame washed over him like a wave. He had allowed fear to let him fail his investigation, and worse still, leave a man to possible death.  
He did not hear the thudding footsteps behind him at first. Then he did, and he turned around.

No. Not possible.  
Then that accursed fear took control again, and once again he found himself fleeing for his life, as the gigantic mountain troll roared furiously at him.

* * *

_Crabbe had said he would be back sooner or later. He was back later. Not that anyone, save myself, had noticed his prolonged absence. Draco had left for bed long ago with complaints of a headache. I had briefly considered trying to find Crabbe, until it occurred to me that I had no idea where to look._

_When my friend did finally enter the common room, it was nearly empty, save myself and a small group of Fourth Years who were discussing the evening's events and rumours in hushed tones. He slowly approached me, and took the armchair beside mine. In the light of the fireplace, I could see his normally blank and emotionless face was sweaty and pale, his pupils were dilated and his hands were trembling. He was silent for several minutes._  
_When he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than a dry whisper._  
_"Goyle, I... I can't do this anymore. I give up."_

* * *

**A/N: It wasn't easy writing this chapter. I stayed up late trying to get it right, but then decided to get a daytime perspective before posting it. The next chapter is probably going to be shorter, although I might change my mind. Either way, if you read and enjoyed/have criticisms, please leave a review. Nitpicking is also welcome. Really, reviews are the things that show a writer that people are actually reading his work, which further encourages him to write more.  
Until next time,  
****TwentyRings**


	6. The Adventure of the Reverse Inscription

**A/N: Despite exams (which are over for now), I still managed to write this. Hope you enjoy.**

**Everything in italics is an extract from Goyle's Journal**

* * *

_"I give up."_

_I was shocked. Those were three words I had never expected to hear from Vincent Crabbe.  
He remained silent for a few moments, took a deep breath, then briefly recounted the events of the night. Though he did not elaborate on his feelings, I could only imagine how anyone would have reacted upon seeing a man's leg viciously ripped open, and then on top of that encountering an 8 foot mountain troll which really should have never been there._

_"Goyle... the thing is, remember those cases we solved for fun before Hogwarts? That's the thing - they were just for fun. The worst that happened was a fistfight, but this... this is beyond either of us. No matter how clever I think I may be, I'm no different from anyone else." He sighed, and stared into the fireplace. I pondered on his words for a while, then replied._

_"No. You're not the same as anybody else. You may be a student, you may be only eleven, but you are gifted in ways the whole school does not even suspect, in a way that even your family does not suspect. You have a brilliant mind, what are you going to do with it? Are you going to simply act more and more dumb until that becomes who you are? Or are you going to use your talents to make a difference?"_

_He did not reply. He merely sat gazing at the slowly dying flames. The minutes ticked by, and I could feel a weariness growing within me.  
"There's something dangerous afoot," I said quietly. "If you don't want to do something about it, that's your choice. I may not be as brilliant as you are, but I can try. And I will try."_

_His eyes briefly flicked in my direction as I got up from my armchair, but other than that he made no motion. I went up to the dormitory, leaving him alone with nothing but the glowing pile of ash._

* * *

_The next morning, I found Crabbe still sitting in the armchair. Whether he had got any sleep during the night I knew not. He noticed me enter the common room, and I sat beside him once more. "Well?" I asked quietly.  
_

_His face said more than enough. "I'm sorry old friend."_

_I left him, and went down to breakfast. _

_I had arrived earlier than most of the other students, so I took the time to observe Crabbe's prime suspects: Snape and Quirell. The Potions Master was limping heavily as he made his way to the head table. It took a while for the significance of this to sink in: the Cerebrus's wounds could not be healed by magic.  
The Defence Professor seemed to have suffered no ill effects from the previous night, but he smirked viciously at Snape's injury. This proved that there were not many pretensions between them, but the question remained as to whether they were enemies or uneasy allies._

_Around this point, a crowd of students entered the Hall, among them Potter and Weasley, who once again had tired but triumphant grins. As they sat down at their table, I was surprised to see Granger join them. I tried to remember her status with them at the Feast, but then it occurred to me that I hadn't seen her then. If she hadn't been there, then she wouldn't have heard about the troll... everything clicked into place. Potter and Weasley had warned her about the troll and she was friends with them now._

* * *

_I did not see Crabbe for most of the day. Sure I was accompanying Malfoy everywhere alongside him, but he did not even once break the 'dumb bodyguard' façade, so neither did I._

_Later that night I decided to see if I could discover any evidence from the troll's destruction path, so I Disillusioned myself and crept quietly out of the dormitory. From a hole in a dungeon corridor to a bathroom door on the first floor, I found nothing but what appeared to simply be a path of destruction wreaked by a troll. Whoever had done this had just set the troll on the loose and left it to its own destructive devices._

_Then I entered the bathroom, and realised that this was where the troll had put up its final fight. smashed cubicles, porcelain shards and a drenched floor, combined with the pungent smell of troll that was so much stronger here. The remains showed evidence of what was no doubt an epic fight, it had probably taken several of the teacher's combined efforts to take the monster down._

* * *

_Since I was already out and about, I decided to take a look at the Third Floor corridor, but not venture inside the chamber itself. Shortly after passing by the Library, I noticed an open door leading to a small chamber. Open doors were a rarity after curfew, so I cautiously ventured inside.  
Besides the sidelined classroom furniture, a single object stood in the centre of the room. A magnificent gold framed mirror standing on two clawed feet, with an inscription carved into the top:_

**Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi**

_I show not your face but your heart's desire.  
I looked, and I found the mirror did not lie._

* * *

**Please leave a review.  
****Or at the very least, recommend this story to a friend if you enjoyed it.  
Or do both, and tell your friend to do the same.  
****TwentyRings**


End file.
